


One Month Too Long

by angeoltaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:58:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeoltaire/pseuds/angeoltaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre's away on business for a month and neither Combeferre nor Courfeyrac particularly like that. Still, they make do with Skype.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Month Too Long

 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac weren't really used to being away from each other. They'd met in primary school, when a seven year old Combeferre with neatly parted hair and wire-framed spectacles lost his book to the wind on the playground, and a scruffy yet somewhat charming boy of the same age left his game of kiss chase and dived through puddles in his school trainers to come to Combeferre's rescue. He caught the book, albeit the pages were rather soggy and the cover was smothered with dirt, and returned the book to Combeferre with a sheepish grin. The boy introduced himself as Courfeyrac, and the boys had seldom been parted since.

So when one day Combeferre's boss told him he was needed in another part of the country for a month, his heart almost sank to his stomach.

Courfeyrac hadn't taken the news particularly well, either. “But _why?_ ” he'd groaned several times that evening, burying his face in Combeferre's chest. For the next week he'd been reluctant to let Combeferre out of his sight for even a minute.

Soon the day of Combeferre's departure was upon them. They'd eaten breakfast in silence that morning, though their joined hands never once broke apart. Of course they had a hugely emotional goodbye at the train station, crammed with nothing but kisses and 'I love you's and 'please don't go's and promises to call, if not video chat, every night. Then it was time for Combeferre to board the train, and if it weren't for Enjolras being there to drag him back, Courfeyrac would've followed Combeferre onto the train without a second thought.

It had been decided that, while Combeferre was away, Courfeyrac would stay with Enjolras and Grantaire. They'd cleared up Enjolras' office and put a futon down for Courfeyrac, because they'd both much rather Courfeyrac was with them as opposed to being left to mope in his and Combeferre's home. As soon as Combeferre's train had left, Enjolras drove Courfeyrac back to the apartment he shared with Grantaire, sat him down in the living room, tossed a couple of blankets over him and made him a large cup of hot chocolate.

“He'll be back soon, you know,” Enjolras reminded Courfeyrac, tapping his legs until he moved them and gave Enjolras room to sit. “And you can Skype him this evening.”

“But it's not the same,” Courfeyrac grumbled, fiddling with a loose thread dangling from the sleeve of his jacket.

“I know,” was all Enjolras had to offer.

\-----

It was seven p.m precisely when Combeferre's Skype call came through to Courfeyrac's laptop. He was quick to press the “accept call” button, positioning the laptop on the coffee table in front of him.

The connection was a little unsteady at first, but soon Combeferre's face – even if it was fuzzy – appeared across Courfeyrac's laptop screen.

“Hey,” Combeferre smiled tiredly.

“Hey,” Courfeyrac beamed, twisting his hands together in his lap.

“How was your day?” Combeferre asked, just as Courfeyrac blurted out, “I love you!”

Combeferre chuckled softly, and Courfeyrac's stomach fluttered when he noticed that you could still see the warmth and depth of Combeferre's eyes despite the pixelation and bad lighting.

“I love you too,” replied Combeferre eventually. He took a moment to loosen his tie from around his neck and toss it aside.

“And my day was okay, thanks,” Courfeyrac offered. “Though lonely. Very lonely. I miss you.”

“And don't we bloody know it!” Grantaire yelled from the kitchen.

“I miss you too, Courf. A lot.”

Courfeyrac snatched up the nearest pillow and hugged it against his chest. “Stupid business trip taking my boyfriend away.”

“I'll be back in twenty-eight days.”

All Courfeyrac could do was whimper.

\-----

Their calls for the next three days went almost entirely the same way – Combeferre was tired, Courfeyrac was lovesick, and they mostly small-talked with a few appearances from Enjolras and Grantaire.

But then Courfeyrac received a text from Combeferre one morning.

Combeferre: Things just got busy. Can't Skype for a few days. Will try to phone you later, maybe? I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Miss you, love you. - Combeferre xx

Chewing on his lip and trying to fight off a few stray tears, Courfeyrac replied.

Courfeyrac: it's ok, I understand. have fun! work hard! love you loads – courf <33 xoxo

With a swollen throat and stinging eyes, Courfeyrac buried himself back beneath his duvet with no intention of getting up so soon.

\-----

Combeferre never had been able to phone him that night, and of course Courfeyrac understood. He hated being this clingy mess, honestly, but Combeferre was his soulmate, his other half, and when Combeferre was away, Courfeyrac felt like a huge chunk of him had been cut away with a serrated knife and the wound hadn't been treated.

It was five days before Combeferre could video chat again, and the minute Courfeyrac picked up the call Combeferre was rushing out his apologies as if they were the only words he knew.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” Courfeyrac reassured him. “I'm fine. It's fine.”

“You're sure? I-”

“Combeferre, shut up.”

“But Courf-”

“No. I love you, and you love me, and I'm okay with you being busy.”

Combeferre's smile was gentle. “Thank you. You are the best boyfriend in the entire universe, you know.”

“Nuh uh, second best, maybe. _You_ are the best.”

“So how's everything? Has Enjolras threatened to murder you yet?”

“Things are good here, actually. I've been playing more Call Of Duty than is probably healthy – you can blame Grantaire for that – and Enjolras has threatened me with...eleven different types of execution. He's getting very creative with those, actually. How's work?”

“It's alright, I guess. Not much different to home, except the hospital's much bigger, the patients are less patient, and everybody speaks with funny accents.”

The conversation brightened up from there, thank God, and Courfeyrac went to bed that night grinning like an idiot.

\-----

Combeferre and Courfeyrac had settled into a routine after that – one that of course was nowhere near as good as their old one, when they were both living under the same roof, but one they could make do with for the time being. It felt good, almost comfortable, to at least have some regularity to make up for their loss of physical presence.

Every evening at six p.m., after Combeferre had finished work and Courfeyrac had eaten dinner, they'd both sit down and either call or video chat with one another for anywhere between two and six hours, depending on how tired and hungry Combeferre was, and whether Courfeyrac had work early in the morning. They'd talk until their throats were both sore, and even then they'd fine other means of communication. Sometimes Enjolras or Grantaire would join the Skype calls, and the conversation would be less cute and more banter, but neither of them minded at all. It was just good to see each other's faces and hear each other's voices.

Until one evening, Courfeyrac received a text half an hour before the usual time he'd Skype with Combeferre.

Combeferre: I love you and I miss you and I've got to be honest, this distance isn't doing me well physically either. xx

Courfeyrac: what dyou mean? ;) x

Combeferre: Call me. xx

Knowing neither Enjolras nor Grantaire were due home until at least eight, Courfeyrac dug his laptop out from underneath Enjolras' sofa and took it through to his room. He pulled off his shirt for good measure, and laid down on his front, placing the laptop on the pillow in front of him. He logged on, tapping his fingers against the keyboard impatiently as it started up, and called Combeferre.

When Combeferre picked up, Courfeyrac was delighted to see his position matched Courfeyrac's own, only Combeferre's hair was mussed from what must've been a day of raking his hands through it, and his bottom lip was swollen. Courfeyrac smiled devilishly.

If Grantaire heard some potentially obscene noises coming from Courfeyrac's room when he arrived home that evening, well, it's nothing a pair of earphones couldn't fix.

\-----

For their next Skype call, Courfeyrac had arranged something a little bit, well, odd. It was date night for Enjolras and Grantaire, and so Courfeyrac had raided their kitchen, set up their dining table with candles and his laptop, borrowed a bottle of their red wine, dimmed the lights, and cooked himself dinner. He'd already texted Combeferre that morning:

Courfeyrac: what are you eating for dinner? xx

Combeferre: Lasagne, probably. Why? xx

Courfeyrac: because I had this really cool idea where we could maybe eat together while we're skyping and it'll feel like we're eating together irl. like a date. I think. xx

Combeferre: ...well this isn't the weirdest idea you've had. I'll call you at seven xx

When Combeferre called Courfeyrac to find his boyfriend sat in the almost-dark, grinning proudly at the candles and the meal he'd actually managed to scrape together himself, Combeferre couldn't help but beam.

“Very creative, I must say. Hang on a second.”

At his end, Combeferre set his laptop and his lasagne down on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, pulled over a chair, and dimmed the lamp on his bedside table. He took a seat up to the bed as if it were a table.

Courfeyrac raised his wine glass towards the camera. “To us, and to you coming home in six days.”

Combeferre chuckled fondly. “God, Courf, I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too. And when you come home I'm going to cook you a meal just like this – only maybe I'll get someone else to cook the actual food and we'll be in the same place next time and it'll be much more romantic – and then I'll do to you everything I promised I'd do in our last call.”

“I look forward to it.”

They chatted as they both ate, first about their days, then about their food, and then about anything and everything they could muster words to talk about. It was nice, and even strangely intimate, and it left both of them with flushed cheeks and an oddly satisfying warm and bubbly feeling in their stomaches.

\-----

It really wasn't long at all before Combeferre's time away drew to a close, and the night before his journey home saw them both curled up under the duvet in their respective beds, their laptops perched in front of them as Courfeyrac ate almost an entire pot of Ben and Jerry's and Combeferre light-heartedly lectured him on the lack of nutritional value of eating that much eating.

“But really, it won't be good for you in the long run-”

“Well, it's a good thing it's only for today. And _you're_ not here to stop me, so it's your own fault really.” Courfeyrac poked his tongue out, Combeferre laughing affectionately at the chocolate smears across Courfeyrac's tongue.

“Well, tomorrow I will be there to stop you. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after-”

Courfeyrac dropped his spoon onto his keyboard, fumbling to pick it up and clear up his mess as he said, “Wait, what? You're coming home tomorrow?” He took his phone out of his pocket and flicked through the calendar until he landed on the present date. “Holy shit, Ferre, you're coming home tomorrow! Fuck, that went quick.”

“See, I told you I'd be back in no time and there'd be nothing to worry about,” Combeferre grinned, checking the clock next to his bed. “Okay, I've got an early train in the morning so I'd best be getting off to bed. See you tomorrow, love.”

Courfeyrac squeaked. “ _See you tomorrow._ Oh my God, that feels good to say.”

\-----

“Courf, get up. Ferre's coming home today.”

Those last four words were enough to have Courfeyrac up, out of bed, caffeinated and dressed in under twenty minutes.

The rest of the morning was a blur, all cars stuck in traffic and bright lights and some weird classical music on the radio, right up until the moment when Combeferre's train pulled into the station and squeaked to a stop. Courfeyrac jumped to attention immediately, pushing his way through a crowd of foreign exchange students until he was three metres from the train doors.

When the doors opened, Courfeyrac was already up on his tiptoes, searching the crowd for familiar dark hair and black-framed glasses. He picked Combeferre out of the crowd almost immediately, jumping up and down with impatience until Combeferre was in his arms and their lips were pressed together as if Combeferre had never left.

“I'm really, really glad to have you home,” Courfeyrac murmured breathlessly.

“Damn it, Courf, I've missed you,” Combeferre replied, his arms curling around Courfeyrac with no intention of ever letting go.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make sure I had something written for courferre week and so here is a little drabble-thingy inspired by tumblr's animenjolras' suggestion, "Ferre going away on a business trip for a few weeks and having cute skype dates with Courf." It's not my best, I know, but kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


End file.
